


Arrow

by Faber



Category: Homeworld
Genre: Gen, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faber/pseuds/Faber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pilot of an Arrow class scout tries to survive after the destruction of her squadron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrow

 Her hands felt slippery as she scrambled to retake the controls of the fighter. The starscape outside spun wildly, occasionally allowing a glimpse of her ship’s plasma trail. The ringing of alarms hadn’t stopped since the Turanic ship had entered sensor range, she was afraid to take her hands away from the engine and weapon controls to deactivate it. Regaining control, she banked hard against the spin and slammed the throttle. Her neck wrenched painfully by the sudden G force and then again by a sudden shock from behind. A fiery explosion rushed past the cockpit, thankfully not damaging the worn plastic-composite canopy.

She pulled at the controls, hoping to pull up and spin around to send a defiant last few rounds into the pirate missile corvette, maybe she’d get lucky and score a direct hit on one of the missile pods. But there would be no last act of glory for her; the controls were dead, because the engines were crippled. Realising this, for a second she didn’t do anything. What could she do? Ejecting would keep her alive for a few more hours maybe, but no rescue would come. The Hiigaran military had only a token presence in this system, an old squadron of Arrow class scouts. And now only one of those fighters remained, broken and waiting for death.

 She had never felt so totally calm in her life; even the whining of the alarms was quiet, muffled. Colour caught her attention, among the silver and black of the flight controls was red. Her hands were covered in blood. When had _that_ happened? As she was looking in dazed contemplation a flash of light caught her attention. Before she knew what was happening the pirate corvette flew past her, a burning gash in one of its missile pods. A second later a kinetic projectile came from behind the fighter and smashed the aft section of the Turanic ship, creating an explosion and fiery debris that barely missed her own battered craft.

 Amazed, she looked at the sensor display. The flickering screen showed the wreck of the corvette, the little station orbiting the colony and even the debris of her squadron. Then there was something else, something big… and close. That it was a capital ship was undeniable. After a second or two the sensor label changed from _Debris_ to _Skaal Tel Class Destroyer_. Taiidan. At first she was convinced that this must be a Taiidan Republic vessel; the Imperialist factions wouldn’t care about Turanic raids on Hiigaran space, especially on a backwater colony like Tala. But the _Affiliation_ label didn’t display Republic or Imperial and after a moment of synthetic deliberation the sensor software settled ominously on _Unknown_.

 Movement. The ship began to pass by on her port side. The markings were clearly not Republic. It certainly looked like an Imperialist ship, except that the symbol of the Empire had been painted over. It suddenly occurred to her that the ship wasn’t slowing down, it was moving away. _They think I’m dead!_ She turned to the comms panel only to find it smashed… with blood smeared on the metal frame.

 She grabbed at the weapons control and her hands flinched badly, blood was floating off the forearms of the flight suit. The adrenaline rush that had shielded her from pain was now crashing. But she **had** to let them know she was alive, even if they were Imperials. She knew what an Imperial captain would do; capture her, interrogate her and then take perverse joy in selling the injured pilot back to Hiigara. Humiliating, but the alternative was a slow death from hypoxia.

 Squeezing the mass driver trigger and letting the shots pass by the destroyer, her hand gripped tighter than it had to in order to keep firing. Pain was intense. Focused on her hand like she was crushing razor wire between her fingers and palm. She saw the stars darken and wanted to say something to express her incredulity but was so weak that she simply slurred “Wha…?”.

 Karan’s hand gently released the control as unconsciousness claimed her.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fan fiction, hope you like it!
> 
> Special thanks to my sister Shannon for beta.


End file.
